The Tragic Tale of Graham Andrews
by bfalt1
Summary: "I looked down and saw a small person looking up sheepishly with sea green eyes. The boy's unruly, black hair stuck out from underneath his pirate hat. I realized that this was the reason my internal radar was going so wild. This boy had a powerful Greek aura. He was a demigod, and a really powerful one, too."


**AN: Hello, hello! It's been ages since I published something on this site. So long, in fact, that I lost my login info for my original account. Now, I realize I could retrieve the account info, but I just decided that I'd rather just start a new account and proceed to carry forth with a plan I had to create a continuity among multiple stories.**

**So anyhow, here's my first story with this new account. I decided to do something of a Halloween Special, though the story isn't particularly spooky. It just so happens to be set on Halloween. I had several pieces of inspiration for writing this particular one-shot. I'll go into more detail about that at the bottom, for those of you who are interested. So without further ado, here's the story.**

**Rated T for mild language and some gore.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians or the Heroes of Olympus.**

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><p>I sensed the monster before I was even fully awake. My eyes snapped open and I leaped to my feet, drawing my sword by instinct and pointing it towards the aura I felt nearby. "Stay back!" I yelled, firmly pointing my sword towards the blurry shape that I knew was the monster. I heard the monster whimper, but I kept my sword pointed firmly. My vision finally cleared, and I was able to make out his form. It was a Cyclops, though a baby one it seemed. He was taller than me, but not nearly as tall as some other Cyclopes that I'd run into. His single deep brown eye had tears coming out of the corners as he looked at me. I felt bad, but I didn't lower my sword. I had learned the hard way that monsters would do anything to get you to lower your guard.<p>

"Just stay back," I repeated, less harshly, though my voice was still steely.

"Sorry," the Cyclops sniffled. "Was not trying to scare." His speech was not quite fully developed. I knew his type. Cyclopes like him were illegitimate children of gods who were left on the streets to fend for themselves. Come to think of it, they were a lot like me, except I didn't eat demigod.

"Not scare me, just eat me," I growled.

The beast sniffled again and shook his head. "No, was not going to eat. Was just looking for a place to hide from her."

"From what? From her?" I asked, curious as to what could terrorize a Cyclops, even if it was a baby. He was still probably immensely strong and completely fireproof. Whatever or whoever "her" was, I was not interested in meeting her.

He shook his head, starting to sob, clearly not wanting to talk about his fear. "Just wanted to sleep," I managed to make out between his sobs.

I sighed. The sun was setting in the sky. It was probably almost time for me to get up, anyway. A quick glance of my watch affirmed this fact. 7:00 pm.

I preferred to be alert at night. That's when monsters were more active, typically, and I didn't want a group of monsters to find me sleeping when they were at their most active and powerful. "Well you're in luck," I said softly, though I kept my sword pointed firmly at the Cyclops. "It's time for me to get up, anyway. So I'll be leaving, Cyclops."

"Tyson."

"What?" I asked, perplexed.

"Name is Tyson," the Cyclops said. "Not Cyclops."

"Okay, fine," I said. "Whatever you say. The alley is all yours, Tyson." I backed away from him, keeping my sword pointed at the Cyclops until I made it to the mouth of the alley. Then I sheathed my sword and ran. I wanted to put as much distance between me and the Cyclops as possible. He had seemed genuine, but I really couldn't afford to take that chance.

I didn't stop running until I'd made it ten blocks. I stopped, panting, and tried to get my bearings. It was just another New York residential area, apartment buildings stretching out in long rows on either side of the street. Some of the buildings had shops occupying the first floor, and the windows were decorated with orange lights, skeletons, and jack-o-lanterns. Looking around, I noticed lights and fake pumpkins in the windows of some of the apartments, too. Was it Halloween? I glanced down at my beat up digital watch again, checking the date display. Sure enough, it read 10/31. My birthday. If I was keeping track right, I was sixteen now. Woohoo! Forget that I was a homeless, starving, abandoned demigod whose mother had never once answered prayers, I was sixteen now. I should go to the DMV and get my license.

I glanced in a nearby shop window and examined my reflection. I usually avoided looking at my reflection, but it was my birthday. I should at least know how I'd changed in the last year. I had developed something of a tradition the last couple of years of only looking at my reflection on my birthday.

I was taller and lankier than I had been last year, with a thin, malnourished look about me. Of course, I was malnourished, so that made sense. My dark brown hair was long, dirty, and shaggy, hanging down at my shoulders and obscuring my eyes, though I could see just fine past my bangs. I guess I'd just gotten used to them. My clothes were basically rags, hanging loosely off of my frame. My jeans were ripped and torn, my shirt was faded and had burn marks from my encounter with some Laistrygonian giants, and my jacket had big holes in it, barely acting as a shield against the chilly wind. My sword's sheath hung loosely from my belt. My sword was probably the only thing I had that was still in good condition, the Celestial Bronze blade proving resilient to the wear and tear of being a hobo. My skin was a dullish grey. I was coated in dirt, ash, and a fine layer of gold dust from all of the monsters I'd killed. My eyes strayed back up to my face. My face was lean, and I had scruffy hair along my jaw line. My eyes startled me though. Formerly bright blue, they had faded to a dull, hopeless grey from my years living on the streets.

I turned away quickly, not wanted to look at the boy in the reflection anymore, and I strolled off down the street. As per my habit, my hand strayed down and rested on my sword hilt, ready to draw at a moment's notice. I vaguely wondered, yet again, what mortals saw through the Mist when they looked at my sword.

As time passed, I started noticing fewer people dressed in normal clothes wandering around and more kids dressed in Halloween costumes, going up to apartment buildings and going inside so that they could go door to door and collect their candy. I envied their innocence. I had lost that long ago when my dad died and I was forced out onto the streets. I shook my head, clearing the thoughts. It didn't do to dwell too much on the past.

Suddenly my internal radar started going off like crazy. I had groomed myself to sense the auras put off by things and people with some connection to the Greek gods. That's how I sensed monsters before I saw them, and it was much more reliable detection system than smell, which is what monsters typically used.

A powerful aura was nearby, that much was for sure, but it didn't feel like a monster. I turned around on the spot, looking for the source of the aura. I heard a door open and close right behind me. I half turned and suddenly something slammed into me. I stumbled back, trying not to fall to the ground, and used my hands to stabilize the shape that had collided with my lower half. I looked down and saw a small person looking up sheepishly with sea green eyes. Well, eye, because his right eye was covered with an eye patch. The boy's unruly, black hair stuck out from underneath his pirate hat. His pirate costume was pretty good.

I also realized that _this_ was the reason my internal radar was going so wild. This boy had a powerful Greek aura. He was a _demigod_, and a really powerful one, too.

"Sorry," the boy said, grinning sheepishly. I was still distracted by how powerful this boy was, so he just continued talking. "I like your costume. Are you supposed to be a zombie? Why do you have a sword?"

I blinked. "Where's your mom? Or dad?"

The boy frowned. "My dad disappeared a long time ago. He abandoned my mom and I." The boy's face took on a brooding quality. It was remarkable how quickly the look on his young face had changed. "My mom is upstairs making stupid Smelly Gabe some chip dip."

"Smelly Gabe?" I asked.

"My stepdad," he explained. "I hate him. I don' know why my mom puts up with him."

I frowned and inconspicuously took a sniff. I mostly went off of aura, but I had trained my sense of smell first. This boy didn't smell like demigod. If the name Smelly Gabe was any indicator… "I'm sorry, kid," I said. "Maybe your mom has a reason for putting up with him?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

I heard the door open and close again, and a woman walked out. She had long, black, wavy hair and eyes that couldn't seem to decide on what color they wanted to be. "Percy?" she asked, looking at the boy worriedly and throwing a suspicious look my way. "Who's this?"

"Sorry ma'am," I said, extending a hand. "I wasn't looking and I didn't see your son. We just bumped into each other."

Glancing at my sword like she could see it (which would be ridiculous because she was mortal and couldn't see through the Mist) she took my hand and shook it. "Come on, Percy," she said, taking his hand. "Let's go trick-or-treating." As they walked off, Percy turned back towards me and waved. I watched as they walked off down the street. That boy was something special, that much was sure. I hoped his life would end up being better than mine had been so far. His mom cared about him, that much was clear. I just hoped he didn't lose her.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure flying by overhead. I looked upwards and saw a group of four Harpies sitting on the roof ledge of the building I was standing in front of. They were glaring down the street. At Percy. "Shit," I mumbled. I made a split second decision. I leaped up and grabbed onto the bottom rung of the building's fire escape. I hoisted myself up and scaled the metal scaffolding as fast as I could. I reached the edge of the roof just as the first Harpy tensed to leap off the roof. I unsheathed my sword and swung it in a deadly arc, yelling, "Ha!"

The first Harpy burst into powder. The other three refocused their attention towards me and lunged. I rolled under their slashes and came up spinning my sword. They wailed as all three of them burst apart. I looked back down to the street and located Percy and his mother. I could've sworn I saw the mother glancing up, but I must have imagined it.

I had an uneasy feeling. Percy had an incredibly powerful demigod aura, but no demigod smell. And most monsters couldn't sense demigod aura. I doubted that four Harpies would be among the rare monsters that could sense aura. So how had they known to target the boy? Maybe someone, or something, was giving these monsters information and orders…

I shook my head. I was overthinking things. Maybe those Harpies just had an uncommonly good sense of smell. To be fair, that might do it. My sense of smell was not very fine tuned, especially now that I had learned to use aura. Maybe monsters could smell the boy just fine.

I descended to ground level. The moment my feet hit the ground, I noticed glowing eyes in an alley across the street. Percy had just passed by that alley. So maybe I wasn't overthinking things. I sighed. It looked like I was going to be protecting Percy again. I sprinted across the street and pulled out my sword just as a Dracaena leaped out of the alley. I sliced her in half vertically, and she burst into dust. I used my momentum to dive behind a trashcan just as Percy's mom turned around.

"What was that sound, mom?" I heard Percy asking.

"Probably nothing, dear," his mother responded. "Let's walk a little quicker now."

I heard them walking away briskly and I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding. "What is going on?" I wondered aloud. "How are they tracking him?"

"That would be me," a soft voice said. My internal radar suddenly went on high alert like it never had before. The aura readings I was getting were unbelievable. The ground stirred and a woman emerged, made of the asphalt ground itself. Her eyes were closed, and a dreamy smile graced her face. I got the weird impression that she was asleep. No doubt, based off of the insane aura signatures I was getting, this was a goddess.

"You are an uncommonly smart demigod, Graham Andrews," the strange woman said, somehow knowing my name. "Surely you can figure it out."

"You're a goddess, I'm sure of that," I reasoned. "But not just any goddess. Your aura readings are unbelievable. And you emerged straight from the ground, made of earth. So you must be… Gaea."

The goddess chuckled sleepily. "Well done. You are correct. I am asleep now, only able to access a tiny portion of my true power, but my dreams are potent. More than potent enough to control a horde of monsters to do my bidding."

"Why? Why are you using your powers to send monsters after that kid? He's only… what? Nine? Ten at most? What is the purpose of sending monsters after a nine year old?"

"His name is Percy Jackson," the earth mother said. "You amuse me, Graham Andrews, so I'll humor you. Percy Jackson will grow up to become one of the most important demigods who ever lived. I have plans, plans that I've been making for centuries. I've been very patient making these plans, and Percy Jackson is the wild card."

"Wild card?"

"Percy Jackson is tricky. He will either ensure my victory, or close off one of my most valuable assets. Percy Jackson is a gamble. There is a high payoff, but the risk is too great. I would rather not gamble with this plan. I would rather the prophecies about him fall to another demigod, a more controllable one." Prophecies? Plural? Percy Jackson truly _would_ be important. "You see now why I must destroy him?" Gaea finished.

"So let me get this straight," I said, my voice angry and defiant. "You're going to have a mere child killed because he _might_ grow up and screw up your plans? Because you're afraid to gamble you're going to have an innocent killed?"

"An innocent? Percy Jackson's future will be anything but innocent."

"His future doesn't matter," I barked. "Not today it doesn't. Today he is an innocent. It is a crime beyond any other to kill an innocent."

"Tell me child, do you hate the gods of Olympus?"

I found myself thinking of all the unanswered prayers, my years on the street, not even knowing who my mother was, and for some reason I found myself giving Gaea the truth. "Yes."

"If you hate the Olympian gods, then why protect Percy Jackson? He may end up saving them, and he is unpredictable. There is no way to ensure he will make the right decision and destroy the gods."

"There's that 'may' again," I said. "I may hate the gods, Gaea, but I hate those that pick on the weak and innocent even more. Percy hasn't done anything yet. I will not allow you to hurt him because of something he _might_ do someday."

"You will not allow?" Gaea asked, bemused. "You intend to stop me? You intend to protect Percy Jackson?"

"You said he might be useful to you," I reasoned. "You said he might ensure your rise. You said you don't want to gamble, but I think that the benefits you might reap are worth it. For once in your immortal life, make a gamble." I didn't know what Gaea's plans were, but I was not about to let her harm a mere child. I was pretty good with words. Maybe I could convince her to leave Percy alone.

Gaea paused. "You are more interesting than I realized, Graham Andrews. Very well. You wish me to gamble? Then I will make a gamble with_ you_. If you can keep Percy Jackson safe until midnight tonight, then I will leave him alone until after his sixteenth birthday. As you said, he may prove useful to me."

I gulped. I knew that this was hardly much of a gamble. I was one demigod against all of the monsters that Gaea controlled. I also knew, though, that I was Percy's only chance. Without me, even if he survived the night, Gaea would try again the next night, or the next night, until the boy was dead. This way, he at least had a chance. "Fine. I agree to those terms. But you have to swear on the River Styx."

"I swear on the River Styx," Gaea said, "that if Percy Jackson is still alive by midnight tonight, I will not interfere with him again until after he is sixteen." Thunder rumbled. The deal was struck.

"Well, Gaea," I said, nodding, "it's been a pleasure, I assure you, but I have a demigod to protect."

Her sleepy smile widened. "Good luck, little hero." Gaea's body moved downward, melding back into the ground, until she was gone, and I was alone in the alley once more.

"I will save you, Percy Jackson," I said to myself. "I promise that I will protect you if it's the last thing I do, which it very well may be."

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><p>I grunted as I avoided the slashing talons of an Empousa and made her burst apart like a piñata with a downward swing of my sword. I panted, exhausted. The last couple hours had been ridiculous. I had killed more monsters than I had the last year combined. I was even dirtier than usual and every inch of my skin and clothes were coated in golden monster powder. Gaea must've been really determined to kill Percy, to win our gamble.<p>

I glanced back out of the alley I was in to track the boy's progress. He and his mother were approaching their building. That was fine with me. It was easier to guard a stationary target than to try and run around, sprinting into alleys, trying to avoid being seen and taking down monsters all the while. There had been several close calls, times I thought that Percy's mother was sure to have seen me, but I think I managed to avoid her eye.

I watched from the shadows as I saw them walk up the steps to their apartment building. "You head on in, Percy," his mother said. "I just have to check on something real quick." I didn't hear Percy's response, but he obliged and went inside the building.

And then the unthinkable happened. I was proven wrong. Percy's mom looked directly at me and motioned me over, a hard look on her face. I swore aloud, but also realized I didn't have a choice, really. Meekly, I walked over to where the woman stood.

"Who are you?" she asked when I reached her. "The truth," she added, cutting off the lie I was fabricating. "I can see through the Mist. Now who are you and why have you been following us all night?"

I sighed. There was no point in hiding the truth from this woman. She could see through the Mist. She probably knew that her son was a demigod. "My name is Graham Andrews. I promise you that bumping into your son earlier really was just a coincidence. When he did run into me, I sensed that he was a very powerful demigod. You know, don't you?"

The woman nodded. "Yes. My ability to see through the Mist is how I caught the attention of his father." She smiled wistfully.

I nodded. It made sense. "Well I found a couple of monsters looking at him. I killed them. I found out that someone is after him; he has a dangerous destiny, apparently. She's trying to have him killed. I made her a deal. If Percy is still alive at midnight, she'll leave him alone. So I've been spending the night protecting your son."

"Why would you do that?" she asked suspiciously.

I shrugged. "I have a thing about innocents. Your son hasn't done anything yet. It's wrong to go after him because of something that he _might_ do someday."

The woman studied me closely, trying to detect if I was lying. She seemed to decide she could trust what I had said, for she extended her hand to me and said, "Sally. Sally Jackson. How can I help you protect my son?"

I shook the offered hand. "Barricade the building as best you can. Bar the front door, block the windows, whatever it is that you can do, do it. I'll stay out here, defending the your home as best as I can." My watch beeped. I glanced down. "Ten o' clock. Two hours Sally. Two hours to protect your son. We can do this."

She nodded, smiling. "Thank you, Graham."

With that she turned and went inside the apartment building to carry out her job. I turned as well, facing the street, sword in my hand, ready to defend their home.

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><p>I panted as the group of monsters I'd just disposed of burst apart. So far, things had not been too bad. I finally had hope that I could make it through the night. Gaea might have been throwing a lot of enemies at me, but it was mostly Dracaena, Empousa, and Harpies, nothing new and nothing I wasn't used to handling. I don't know what the families passing by in the street finishing up trick-or-treating saw through the Mist, but none of them threw me a second glance. My watch beeped eleven. Only one hour left. Surely I could do it.<p>

The street was completely devoid of mortals, which struck me as odd. This was Manhattan, after all. The City that Never Sleeps. Even though this street was nothing resembling a major lane, one would think that there would still be some people out and about. I was worried. It had been a couple minutes since any monsters had shown up. I was afraid that Gaea was gearing up for something big, saving her worst for last. I was unfortunately proven right.

A roar split the night. I gripped my sword even tighter and looked around. The sound of stomping came from the left. I turned; around the street corner came a massive, thirty foot long wingless dragon. How was Gaea controlling that thing?

The dragon, lacking trepidation, walked straight up to me and roared in my face, its jaw opening up as wide as I was tall. An orange glow lit up the monster's throat. "Shit!" I screamed, as I dove off the side of the steps. The monster engulfed the exact spot that I'd been standing in orange flames. The burst was short, but I could feel the heat as I rolled away from the fireball.

I stumbled to my feet as the dragon took another breath, preparing to breathe fire to burn down the door to Percy's home. I couldn't let that happen. I dashed forward and swung my sword downward at the dragon's throat. My blade bounced off the dragon's hard scales harmlessly, sparks flying into the air. My strike did catch the dragon's attention, though.

It turned towards me, smacking me aside with its massive front foot. I flew across the street like a rag doll, slamming into a huge metal trashcan, knocking it over. Luckily, the garbage broke my impact. I was still in a huge amount of pain, aches covering my entire body. I stood no chance against this monster, but I knew that I couldn't give up.

The dragon lumbered towards me, standing over my body and sucking in breath to burn me to a crisp. I tried to move, but my body wasn't responding. So I did the only thing I could. I grabbed the huge metal trashcan lid and held it up in front of me.

The blast of fire hit my makeshift shield and almost knocked it out of my hand. I dropped my sword and used both hands to steady the trashcan lid. The continual stream of fire heated up the metal disc quickly. I could feel my hands blistering, the heat causing my hands to burn onto the metal. I screamed in pain, knowing my hands were being burned beyond any healing, but also knowing that if I let go of the lid, I would be dead. So I held onto the hot metal as my hands burned and blackened, screaming all the while, tears streaming down my face.

The flames cut off. I didn't know if it was because the monster had run out of breath, or to see if its meal was cooked. My mind a blur of pain, I acted without thinking. I jammed the disc into the monster's still open jaw. My hands had been fused to the disc by the heat, but I wrenched them off, a layer of skin staying behind. I rolled to the side, examining my hands, which had literally been charred to a blackened crisp, except for my palms, which were a bloody mess from the ripped off skin. I vaguely wondered how I was managing to stay conscious through the pain.

I didn't have time to do anything about my hands, though, because I still had a dragon to kill. I scooped up my sword, screaming in pain, fear, and pent-up rage as I did so and plunged the point into the soft tissue of the monster's jammed-open mouth. The dragon grunted in surprise, then burst apart into dust. The dragon was gone.

I fell to my knees, tears stinging my eyes as I examined the blackened, mangled mess that had once been my hands. I sobbed in pain, but sometimes managed to rip off strips of cloth from my shirt and wrap my hands in them, trying to salvage what remained of my ability to fight.

I was in more pain than I'd ever been in before, but the nightmare wasn't over yet. Loud voices came from down the street. I didn't know what was coming, but I still had a job to do. I still had to protect Percy Jackson. I picked up my sword again and turned towards the voices.

Down the street came a horde of Cyclopes, laughing and toting clubs. These Cyclopes were taller and older than the young one I had met earlier in the evening, each of them standing at around ten feet tall.

"Stop," I said, trying to sound harsh, though my voice cracked and my eyes still stung with tears.

The Cyclopes stopped a few yards away from me, still laughing. One of them stepped forward. I guessed that he was their leader because he was the tallest and ugliest of the bunch. "And who are you, tiny demigod?"

"It doesn't matter who I am," I croaked. "That's not important. I know why you are here. I'm not going to let you hurt Percy Jackson."

The head Cyclops laughed. "Then we shall feast on _two_ demigods tonight." He swung his club down at me, but I managed to sidestep, then slice him right in half with my sword. He dissolved into dust. The other Cyclopes went silent. Then, all at once, they roared and charged at me.

I don't know how I managed it, blinded by pain as I was, but I managed to avoid getting my head bashed in by clubs. I supposed my adrenaline and natural battlefield instincts were keeping me clinging to life. I jumped, rolled, and weaved through the crowd of Cyclopes, avoiding getting killed, but not finding any openings to attack back.

Finally, one presented itself. As I rolled beneath a Cyclops's legs I stuck my sword in his butt. Then I whirled around and stabbed another one in the stomach. I spun to the left, ducking under a club and keeping my sword arm fully extended, turning it into a deadly arc. Three Cyclopes exploded into dust. I turned to the Cyclops who'd just tried to attack me and sliced his arm off. There were only three Cyclopes left now, but they seemed hesitant to attack. I could hardly blame them; I had just turned a bunch of their buddies into dust. I knew my only chance at survival was to keep my adrenaline pumping, so I went on the offensive. I charged forward, ducked under two clubs, sidestepped a third, then beheaded all three remaining Cyclopes.

I panted, pain throbbing through my whole body, but especially my hands. The strips of cloth that I'd used to wrap them in were soaked with blood. I knew I'd probably ripped my hands up even more by handling my sword, but I hadn't exactly had much of a choice.

Before I had much time to examine, though, a cacophony of noise made my eardrums pop. I looked up and saw something that made my stomach drop. "Oh, come on!" I yelled. Approaching me was a Hydra, its seven heads hissing and growling as it plodded down the street towards Percy Jackson's door.

I staggered back to my feet and hurried down the street. "Hey, ugly!" I yelled. Three of the heads turned towards me, hungry looks on their faces. The other four, however, turned to to the apartment I was trying to protect. I had to get all of the heads' attention. I couldn't let them get to the boy. A plan formulated in my head, but I was not happy about it.

One of the three heads focusing on me snapped forward and I set my plan into motion. I sidestepped and swung my sword upwards, cutting off the head. All six remaining heads turned towards me. I was now the center of attention. The stump of the head I'd just cut off split in two, and the new heads glared at me as well. I now had the undivided attention of an _eight_-headed Hydra. Joy of joys!

I backed up as quickly as possible as all eight heads spat jets of acid at me that left the pavement steaming. I kept dashing about, desperately trying to avoid jets of acid, and wondering how I was going to kill this thing. I thought back to the myths. Hercules had killed the monster with the help of his nephew, who would use fire on the stumps of heads that Hercules chopped off to prevent new ones from growing back. Unfortunately, I did not have any fire. Or a nephew. Fat lot of good that myth did me.

Then I remembered the cheesy Hercules Disney movie that I had loved when I was a little kid. It was grossly inaccurate, but I did remember that Hercules fought the Hydra in that movie, too. He'd killed it by crushing its whole body with stones. I couldn't very well do that, but for some reason the stupid kids' movie gave me an idea. I couldn't very well attack the heads, but maybe I could kill it by attacking its body.

I dodged another jet of acid and found myself back to my trusty trashcan lid shield. Perfect. I picked it up with my left hand and frisbeed the metal disc toward the heads. The disc bounced off of one head and collided with another, catching the Hydra by surprise. All eight head reared back, creating my opportunity. I dashed forward. As the Hydra spat acid again, I tucked my body into a roll. I came to a stop lying on my back right underneath the belly of the monster. I roared and stabbed upwards. All eight heads grunted in unison, then the Hydra burst into dust, burying me in a huge mound of the golden powder. I sobbed in relief. I was still alive.

I heard the door to the Jackson residence open and close. I hauled myself to my feet. Sally Jackson was descending the steps, moving towards me. She looked worried. "Are you alright?"

"Stop!" I cried out. "It's not midnight yet! It's not over."

Sally stopped, pursing her lips. "I wasn't just going to continue to stay inside, listening to the roars of monsters and the sound of you screaming and crying."

I sighed. "Sally, I appreciate the concern, but-"

"I want to help you," she interrupted. "Not with the monsters, I know I'd be terrible at fighting them. But I want to help after all of this is over. Do you have someplace to live?"

"Wha-what?" I asked, bewildered by what she was asking. She barely knew who I was, and yet this kindly woman was offering to take me in and take care of me?

Before she could say anything else, a bellow sounded off nearby. Down the street lumbered a huge form. From the waist down he was a man dressed in… pajama pants? Not what I'd expected, but alright. From the waist up, though, he had the body of a bull, with thick, coarse hair that started around his navel and culminated in a massive bull head. Jutting out of the head were two long black and white horns, sharpened to a point that looked far more deadly than my sword. Gaea had pulled another baddy out of her sleeves. Tired, exhausted, and barely standing, I would have to face the Minotaur.

"Back up, Sally," I said quickly. She obliged. "Hey, ugly," I said, turning towards the Minotaur. He was still several yards away and didn't seem to hear me. Or see me for that matter. "Eyesight and hearing not so good, eh?" I muttered. "So how do you know where to go?" I noticed the Minotaur sniffling, and saw it turn towards me. "Smell!" I exclaimed. "Of course, that would make sense."

My reasoning seemed to be sound, because after the bull-man had sniffed in my direction, he lowered his head and charged at me. Instinct told me to run for my life, but I knew I'd never outrun him. However, a beast that size, moving at that speed would have a lot of momentum. Changing direction quickly would be nearly impossible for him. The calculations ran through my head in a split second, and I knew what I needed to do.

Right before the Minotaur hit, I jumped to the left and swung my sword upward. I didn't manage to score a lethal hit, but I did manage to take off one of the monster's horns. The Minotaur roared in rage, but as expected he barreled past, unable to turn or stop. It was several yards before he was able to come to a halt. He turned back towards me, lowering his head to charge again. My muscles tensed, preparing to do the same thing as last time. What happened next I can't entirely explain. I don't know whether I was thinking that I could slice of his other horn, or if I just made a mistake, but regardless, instead of jumping to the safe side that didn't have a deadly-sharp horn, I jumped to the right. I didn't jump far enough. The horn drove itself straight into my abdomen, ripping through my flesh. The Minotaur roared in victory and jerked his head upwards. The sharp horn, still inside my body, wrenched up, tearing through skin, muscle, organs, and even bone. The horn's point of exit was halfway up my rib cage. I knew several of my ribs were shattered, and my lung on that side had to have been torn apart.

I fell to the ground instantly, blood pooling out around me at an alarming rate. I was done for.

The Minotaur turned away from me, deciding that, apparently, I wasn't worth his time anymore. I heard Sally Jackson yelling at the monster to stay away. I was delirious; the only thing that existed anymore was the pain. Yet, the promise I'd made earlier that night echoed in my head with great clarity. _I promise that I will protect you if it's the last thing I do, which it very well may be._

With my last ounce of strength I managed to push myself up far enough to get a good view of the Minotaur. I threw my sword at him. It spun through the air in a deadly circle. Unbelievably, my shot was on target. My watch beeped midnight right as my sword impaled the Minotaur. The monster burst apart with a roar, my sword clattered on the pavement, and the earth shook. I'd done it. I'd beaten Gaea. But it had cost me my life. I knew that. There was no way I was going to recover from these injuries.

Strangely, time seemed to slow down, stop even. My pain faded, and my labored breathing eased. I couldn't sit up or move, though, so I wasn't sure what was happening. Then the air shimmered and a woman appeared, standing over me. She was a pretty woman, with long dark hair and eyes of solid gold. She was dressed in a simple white dress, and she looked at me with sympathy and pity.

"Hello, my son," the woman said, a sad smile on her face.

I was shocked. "Mother? What- I- who are you?"

"I am Arete, goddess of virtue, goodness, excellence, and honor," she said. "And you, my son-"

But I interrupted, anger taking me over. "Who the _hell_ do you think you are just showing up now? You left me on my own for my whole life! Where were you when I needed you?! I lived on the streets for years! Why weren't you there?! Why did you never answer any of my pryers?! I didn't even know who you were until now!"

Arete looked at me sadly. "You are angry. And rightfully so. The gods may not interfere with our mortal children. This is one of the most ancient laws. Heroes must walk their own path, and even their godly parents may not interfere. This law is broken, but I am the goddess of virtue. I must set an example and follow the ancient laws more closely than the other gods."

"So why now?" I asked bitterly. "Why do you suddenly care enough to break this ancient law now?"

"You did the most virtuous, honorable thing that it is possible for a person to do," she responded. "You sacrificed your life for an innocent. An innocent that you did not even know. That amount of honor was enough to invoke my presence."

"So you don't actually care," I spat. "You're just here because I _invoked_ you, whatever that means."

"No, my son," my mother said. "That is not what I meant. I've always cared about you. Because of my nature, I could never speak to you until now. But it is also because of my nature that it has been so hard for me not to interfere. You are my son. The good thing to do would be to help you, but I couldn't. I do not have children very often, once in a mortal generation at most. All of my children are more precious to me than anything else. This is my burden. I love my children more than the other gods, and yet even the little the other gods are able to interact with their children, I am not able to do."

I scoffed. This goddess, my mother, came here making deadbeat excuses for why she hadn't been there, and it wasn't okay. Yet, some part of me realized that she was telling the truth. She truly _did_ love me, and she really did regret not being able to be there for me. She even seemed to be proud of me and my actions. These contradicting thoughts gave me a headache. I was conflicted and confused.

Arete seemed to know what I was thinking. "I know that this is hard for you to hear, son. Often my children live extremely tragic lives. You always do what is right, what is noble, what is honorable, and yet no one remembers you. For the most honorable acts are simple ones, like saving an innocent life, and the most honorable people do not seek praise. My children are not remembered like Achilles or Perseus or Theseus or Heracles, but you are more honorable and heroic than the greatest of heroes. I know I do not deserve your acceptance, but know that I am truly sorry for all the pain you've suffered and that I was not able to be there for you. I cannot stay much longer, but know that I am proud of you, son."

Words failed me. My eyes stung with tears, but I held myself together. I nodded at my mother. The air shimmered again, and she disappeared. Time started to move again. The pain returned and blood resumed spilling from the massive gash in my side. My breathing came with a lot of difficulty, and I recalled that one of my lungs was out of commission. I coughed, and blood came up.

I heard footsteps running towards me, and then Sally Jackson was kneeling by me. I looked at her with wonder. In the short couple of hours I'd known her, Sally had shown me more caring than my actual mother had my whole life. Sally looked really pale as she looked at the gash in my side. "Oh gods… Graham…"

"Sally," I said with difficulty, "I'm dying, we don't-"

"We'll rush you to the hospital," she interrupted.

"It's too late and you know it," I said, a deadly calm coming over me. For some reason, I was not afraid of dying. But I was very serious. I thought about my years on the streets, I thought about all the monsters I'd faced, I thought about my dead father, I thought about my mother, I thought about Sally, and finally, I thought about Percy Jackson. I only had a few breaths left, so I decided to make them count.

"Listen, Sally," I said, struggling to get the words out. Damn, dying was difficult work. "Please, raise Percy well. He's important, and someday he's going to make an important choice. Raise him well so that he knows the right choice to make."

"Of course," Sally responded. As she spoke her next words I could not mistake the pride in her voice. "I'm his mother."

I sucked in another ragged breath. "Don't tell him about me. Ever. If he knows, then he'll find out who he is and he'll be easier for monsters to track. But even after he knows who he is, don't tell him. He'll only feel guilty, and he'll blame himself for causing my death."

"How do you know?"

"Because that's how I would feel," I said simply. "I think that's how all demigods feel. Call it a gut instinct." I coughed, and droplets of blood sprayed Sally Jackson's face. "Sorry," I said, then took another ragged breath.

"Okay," she said. "I won't tell him."

"Good," I said. "Thank you so much for everything, Sally Jackson."

She shook her head, holding back tears. "Why would you say thank you? I didn't do anything. I should be thanking you."

"You gave me hope that there are good parents out there," I said simply, in response to her question. "And demigods who can have the happy home life I was denied." Darkness was infringing upon the edges of my vision. Sally opened her mouth and said something, but I couldn't hear her. My sense of sound was gone. My body was shutting down completely. My sight went completely dark, and I discovered that the "light at the end of the tunnel" cliché was entirely inaccurate. I took my last, ragged breath and drifted away into nothingness.

* * *

><p>I was momentarily blinded by the light. I couldn't see anything, I had become so used to the darkness. When I could make out my surroundings, I found myself in some kind of lobby. The room was packed, full of people sitting in chairs, reading old magazines, lighting cigarettes, or just standing around. None of them had much in common in looks or age, but they all seemed to be agitated by something. I don't know why, but I suddenly felt agitated, too. Maybe it was the Muzak playing, assaulting my eardrums.<p>

I looked past the people milling about in the chairs and saw a hallway that led to an elevator. Right next to the hall was a reception desk. Standing at the desk was a hulking dude dressed in a fancy, white Italian suit. I was confused, so I figured that the desk would be the best place to start.

"Uh, excuse me," I said. I squinted at the man's name tag, trying to make out the small letters despite my dyslexia. "Excuse me, er… Chiron, but where am I?"

The man sighed exasperatedly. "The name is Charon. With an 'a' mate." He had a strange accent. English, maybe Australian? But it also sounded like English may not have been his first language, which also struck me as odd. "Everyone gets my name wrong. Tell me, do I look like a damn Centaur to you?"

"Uh… no."

"That's right," he said gruffly. "Now, what is my name?"

"Charon," I said, annoyed now. Why was it so damn hard to get an answer around here? "You didn't answer my question, though. Where am I?"

Charon rolled his eyes. "Where do you think you are?"

I blinked. "How should I know? The last thing I remember…" I trailed off. What _was_ the last thing I remembered? I had a vague memory of lying on the ground, bleeding out. But that clearly couldn't be right, because I was perfectly intact now in this place. Whatever this place was.

Charon chuckled, apparently having read my mind. "Welcome, young one, to DOA Recording Studios, the entrance to the Underworld."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: All done. Whew. I know that's a rather long One-Shot, but it didn't feel right to split it into multiple chapters. As for where I got the idea for the story, I had a couple of different pieces of inspiration. The first was a strange idea I had of "What if an unknown demigod met Percy Jackson when he was still a kid, before he figured out who he was?" The second was the idea that Gaea interfered with both Leo and Hazel when they were kids, so I figured it wasn't unreasonable to believe she may have interfered with some of the others. Lastly, the "Oath to keep with a final breath" line of the Prophecy of Seven bothers me still. In the story it was written that it was Leo's final breath, but he came back to life, so I was slightly uncomfortable with it. Then I figured, "What if the Oath in question happened long before the rest of the prophecy?" So the three elements came together, and boom! The Tragic Tale of Graham Andrews was born.<strong>

**Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed. Please review, I would love to get any feedback or questions. Plus, reviews are what we writers on this site get paid with!**

**Alrighty, see you all next time. Have a Happy Halloween, and remember: Don't forget to be awesome!**

**-bfalt1**


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